


Who You Are

by reginahalliwell



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Post - X-Men: The Last Stand (2006), X-men: The Last Stand Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 10:13:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12505080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginahalliwell/pseuds/reginahalliwell
Summary: "Tell me whom you love and I'll tell you who you are" - Louisiana Creole ProverbLogan is grieving. Marie is searching. They have to find their way through together.





	Who You Are

**Author's Note:**

> Post X-Men: The Last Stand; follows the alternate ending where Rogue does not take the cure.

She found him sitting in the courtyard, a cigar in hand. It was unlit, like he wasn’t sure if he was really going to smoke it. He toyed with it in his hands, fingering the rolled tobacco absently as he stared out towards the cemetery. She knew exactly what he was thinking about. Killing the woman you’re in love with probably makes for a lot of sleepless nights.

She’d had her share of those, albeit for very different reasons. 

“Hey, kid. I heard you came back,” he said, barely glancing at her as he pulled a lighter out of his coat pocket and flicked the flint wheel. The wick caught, and they both watched as the small flame ignited, licking up the sides of the chimney. He hesitated before lighting the cigar, focusing all his coiled energy on rotating it and toasting it evenly. Logan’s practiced hands were steady as he did so, like he had done this a thousand times.

The silence between them was comfortable, but they hadn’t separated on the most certain of terms. Marie didn’t speak while he puffed gently on the cigar, savoring both the flavor of the tobacco and the calming rush of the nicotine as it hit his system. There wasn’t a cigar strong enough in the world to calm his grieving heart right now, but it was a start.

“No matter what, this has been the closest thing to home I’ve ever had,” she admitted.

A little more silence, then, as he smoked pensively.

“So, what’s it to be, kid? Are you Marie? Rogue?”

“I don’t know who I am,” she answered, sitting next to him. She was wearing gloves, long black ones that looked like silk. Maybe it was a reflex. The girl had practically never stepped outside her bedroom without being completely covered in the couple of years he had known her now.

Maybe she hadn’t done it after all, though.

“Hell, you think any of us really do?” he asked, taking a few short puffs of the cigar before really looking at her.

Marie picked at her gloves, feeling like her skin was itching to be free from them.

“I broke up with Bobby,” she told him quietly, not answering his question.

Logan nodded and sighed loudly, leaving the cigar in his mouth for a moment while he reached over to her and closed the distance between them. He held her to him in the way that only Logan would. She craved affection so much, needed physical touch so desperately that his embrace brought tears to her eyes. She eagerly hugged him back, her hair pressed between her cheek and his chest as his arm cradled her shoulders. She squeezed him around the middle, her hands sliding easily under his leather motorcycle jacket. 

“He likes Kitty,” she explained. “Regardless of what I decided, I had to let him go.”

“Still hurts like hell, I bet,” Logan offered, loosening her grip a bit to free a hand. He pulled the cigar out of his mouth.

Marie nodded, reluctantly pulling back from his embrace. “I won’t forget this feeling anytime soon.”

“Eh, stuff like this only stays with you for a while. You’ve got a nice collection of little hurts in that head of yours now, huh?” Logan grimaced, thinking of his own loss.

Marie nodded. “Sugar, I’ve got so many boxes in my head it looks like a shoe store.” She laughed at her bad joke. 

“It’s good to see you laugh,” Logan said. “Everyone’s too damn sad around here right now.”

She looked at him pointedly. “Like you’re not part of that ‘everyone’?” It was her way of acknowledging his grief, not to mention very few people called him out like she did.

He took another puff of the cigar, savoring the smoke in his mouth for a few moments before slowly blowing it out. “Guess you’re right. Gotta move on sometime.”

“Don’t you mean move out? Seems like time for you to run again,” she pointed out, before realizing what that sounded like. “Not that I want you to go. I’m just surprised you aren’t packing a bag as we speak.”

“Way I figure it, kid, if you’re strong enough to face your problems, I better be willing to face mine. And it looks like you decided not to run,” he observed, consciously looking down at her gloves.

“How’d you know?”

“I just knew. You and me both know you can’t figure this out by getting some injection to turn your skin off. You get control one day, great. In the meantime, you still have to be able to live with yourself.”

“I went all the way there. I really thought I was going to do it. But then I got in that line, thought about what I’d be giving up. I hate this part of me… but it is a part of me.”

“Truer words, darlin,” he acknowledged, the saying playing through both of their minds.

“Well, I’m glad you’re staying, for a little while at least. I just broke it off with the only person besides you that I really get along with here,” she said.

“This does not mean that I will watch chick flicks with you,” Logan warned.

She grinned. “I figured. I’m fine watching hockey and inhaling second-hand smoke if it means I get to hang around you,” Marie agreed. 

“Fine by me, darlin. But on one condition,” he started, waiting for her to meet his eyes. 

“What?” she asked nervously.

“No more gloves when it’s just us,” he stated clearly. “We both know what happens when you try to hide that part of you too deep. Better to face it head on. Besides, I’m not afraid of your skin. I’ve already dealt with it up close and personal, a few times.”

“You may not be, but I am,” Marie admitted.

“C’mon, kid, I’ll take care of you.” His words repeated in her mind from years before, one that train right before Magneto took her. 

He had done his best to protect her then, and when he couldn’t, he risked his life to get her back. She came out of that with a unique hair job, a semi-permanent awareness of metals, and some pretty severe PTSD. She had also added a whole warehouse of boxes to her mind, mostly from Erik, but a few courtesy of Logan’s life-saving maneuver.

He might think he failed her, but he had fought for her when no one else would. She had him inside her mind, but he’s the one that knows her better than anyone else in the world.

In response, she held out a hand to him and nodded. He took one last puff of the cigar and set it down on the stone next to them. As gingerly as someone like Logan could, he grasped the tip of her glove and pulled, the silk sliding off her fingers to reveal her pale hand and wrist.

Marie held her hand out awkwardly, not sure what to do with her skin so exposed. She summoned the courage and efficiently plucked the glove off her other hand. Very carefully, Marie took the glove out of Logan’s hand, matched it to the one she held, and folded them over to fit in her back pocket. Her hands fell loose into her lap, and she stared down at them, still afraid of what she might do.

“Come on, should be a game on soon.” 

Without any hesitation, Logan wrapped his strong arm around her again, pulling her to her feet. Her body fit into his side, tucking her away from the world. Tentatively, she wrapped an arm around his back, her hand holding onto his leather jacket on the opposite side.

The exposed skin of her hand was protected by his leather sleeve, keeping it from touching anyone they might run into. She wrapped the fingers of her free hand in a long lock of hair, fidgeting from nervousness.

As they started to walk, Marie’s hand grazed the one resting on her shoulder. Logan didn’t flinch, didn’t recoil, didn’t pause his sure steps as they moved. In that moment, Marie absorbed brief feelings of confidence and hope, a distant cloud of lingering sadness, and something that felt a lot like love.

“I’m proud of you, kid,” he said, affirming what she caught from him in that momentary lapse. Marie smiled and gripped his jacket tighter, giving his side a half-hug. She wanted to be proud of herself, too, but that was still a long way off.

On the stone bench behind them, the cigar Logan had smoked through their conversation smoldered lightly as it went out, tiny wisps of smoke disappearing into the brisk air.


End file.
